Better Than Life
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: [complete] Harry could have never guessed the repercussions of drinking the Better Than Life potion. Snape-Harry
1. Better Than Life

**Author Notes**: Thank you to all my betas: stiletto (for betaing the original version of this), electricandroid (for getting rid of all my useless phrases) and kagomesama (for her very helpful suggestions). The idea of Better Than Life obviously comes from Red Dwarf.

This is a finished story. New parts will be up every three days. There are 4 parts in total.

-

**Part 1: Better Than Life**

It was near midnight and most of the inhabitants of Hogwarts were fast asleep in bed. But not Snape. Slowly, he prowled the rows of bookshelves in the library searching for miscreants out of bed. A dim light shone from his wand as he walked.

Frowning, Snape saw a figure slumped across one of the tables, head resting on a book.

"No respect for books," he muttered as he walked closer. "Wake up!"

The body stirred slightly but didn't awake.

Snape cautiously prodded the person in the shoulder but there was still no movement With a start, he realised that it was Harry Potter. _What would Harry Potter be doing, in the library of all places, in the middle of night? _He deftly eased the book out of Potter's grip, smirking as the boy's head came into contact with the mahogany desk with a thump.

He still did not wake up.

Snape was beginning to feel uneasy. It had been a long time since he felt that particular emotion. Anger, yes. Fear, yes. But unease? Very rarely.

He looked at the book he held in his hand. Snape frowned again. A Potions textbook? When did Potter begin to take an extracurricular interest in Potions? _After all, the boy was just as much of a dunderhead at his subject after nearly seven years as he was in his first year!_

"And what potion were you examining?" Snape mused as he peered at the page that Potter had his head on.

As his eyes flicked down the page, Snape's face paled. He looked up and was startled to notice a small vial lying next to Potter's head. Picking up the vial, Snape sniffed the dregs.

With a disgusted expression directed towards Potter, Snape turned on his heel and made his way towards Albus's sleeping quarters.

-

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Severus?" Albus was as cordial as ever, even though he was wearing a bright red dressing gown decorated with gold ducklings and matching slippers. "Please come in and sit down."

Snape swept into the office and sat in front of the crackling fire. His thin lips were pursed. "Potter has seen fit to ingest Better Than Life potion," he said crisply.

Albus's cheerful expression never failed. "I have a feeling that this will take a while. Would you like some tea?" He waved his wand and tea tray appeared in mid-air. Albus poured two cups of tea and handed one to Snape. "Now, you say that Harry has taken Better Than Life potion? I'm afraid that I'm a bit rusty as to its exact effects"

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and took a sip of his tea, giving an involuntary grimace as he did so. Lemon tea. His least favourite. "Better Than Life potion allows the drinker to live nothing else than their greatest wishes. Its operation is quite similar to the Mirror of Erised except the drinker does not know that he is living a fantasy. It is what Muggles would call the ultimate hallucinogenic. Potter is now, no doubt, living his deepest desires." His upper lip curled.

"Oh dear," Albus said quietly. "When does it wear off?"

"It doesn't," Snape answered. "Or least, Potter being the idiot he is, took the version that does not. The potion will keep his physical body alive. Just."

Albus blinked. "Is there no antidote? Forgive me, I am no Potions Master as you are Severus, but I believe that all legal potions have an antidote."

Snape gave a harsh laugh. "That is true, to a certain extent. There is an antidote." He stopped.

"And?" Albus prompted gently.

"The antidote is not one in the classical sense of the word. There is a certain potion - quite easy to make - that somebody can take so that they will join the original person in their fantasy world. The second person cannot control anything in the original person's world. Their sole function is to convince the original person that the world they are living in is a fantasy and that they must leave that world. Once the person wants to leave, it is a matter of walking through the doorway that appears. However, as with all potions, there is a catch." Snape took a breath but Albus interrupted.

"The person is unlikely to want to leave."

"Precisely. After all, they are living their deepest darkest desires."

"What of the person sent to rescue the original person?"

Snape gave a wry smile. "They are stuck in the fantasy world until the original person decides to leave. There have been about 20 documented cases of people ingesting Better Than Life potion. In 14 of those cases, somebody has volunteered to help the person escape. Out of those 14 cases," Snape shrugged, "nobody has managed to get out of the potion's clutches."

"You talk as though the potion is almost sentient," Albus said.

"It certainly seems to have a rather, how should I say, sadistic sense of humour. In 12 of those 14 cases where a rescuer was sent, both ended up dying."

Worry flared in Albus's eyes. "I thought you said that the potion kept the person alive!"

"It does. But if the person dies in their fantasy world, their real body will perish as well. The physical body cannot live while the mind has died. It is suspected, but never confirmed - nobody has managed to escape the fantasy to tell the tale - that the rescuer would have ended up killing the original in the last futile attempt to escape."

"Oh dear," Albus took a deep swallow of his tea and then popped a lemon drop in his mouth. "This is not good news."

Snape spread his hands and then stood up. "I have done my duty, Albus. May I leave now?" He was about to depart when Albus held up his hand.

"It might be best if you stayed. We have much to discuss."

Confusion spread over Snape's features for a minute before something suddenly dawned upon him. He backed away. "Oh no, Albus," he snapped. "You cannot do this to me!"

-

"You cannot do this to him!" Ron yelled at Dumbledore and then wheeling around to glare at Snape. "Of all the people you could send to rescue Harry, you send Snape?"

Dumbledore held up his hands. "You are understandably upset, Mister Weasley, but you must understand that Professor Snape is the best candidate for the job."

"But why?" Hermione protested. "I've done some reading about this potion since you told us about it, and it seems to me that you can send anybody to rescue Harry! So why not Ron? Or me? Or even yourself, Professor Dumbledore."

"It is true that anybody can be sent to rescue Mister Potter," Snape said smoothly. "But the Headmaster has decided, in his infinite wisdom, that I am the most likely candidate to get Mister Potter out of his self-induced fantasy world."

It began to dawn on Hermione that maybe Snape didn't want to play the knight in shining armour any more than they wanted him to. "But Professor Snape, the books say that Harry only has one chance at being rescued." She bit her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "Forgive me, Professor, if I'm being rude. But you and Harry... well..."

"Have been enemies ever since he entered the gates of Hogwarts," Ron said. "Harry hates you and you hate him. This is NOT a good idea!"

Snape turned his icy gaze onto Ron. "Mister Weasley," he drawled slowly, "I am perfectly aware that my relations with Mister Potter are neutral at best, but I am not questioning the Headmaster's decision."

Dumbledore's lips twitched and Hermione fought to keep a hysterical giggle down. It was obvious hat Snape must have protested a lot when Dumbledore first asked him.

"What are you laughing at, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered.

"Nothing, Professor," she said quickly.

Snape obviously didn't believe her, but let it pass. He turned towards Dumbledore. "Headmaster, when shall I be making this journey into Potter's mind?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "When will the potion be completed?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Then tomorrow night it is," Dumbledore said cheerfully. To Ron and Hermione, he said, "Don't look so glum, Harry will be back before you know it."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione said nervously. "May we go and see Harry in the Hospital Wing?"

To her disappointment, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but it will do you and Mister Weasley no good to see him comatose. I will contact both of you if there is any change in his condition. And remember, do not tell anybody else of this." His blue eyes held a warning. "If anybody asks, Harry is merely undertaking training elsewhere."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore." Hermione sighed as she and Ron left Dumbledore's office.

-

"That's the potion?" Albus pointed towards a murky green vial that Snape was holding.

Snape nodded.

Albus laid a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Be careful, Severus. We do not know lurks in Harry's mind."

Snape snorted. "No doubt it is the thoughts of an ordinary teenage boy. His psyche is likely to be now reclining among buxom naked women."

Albus's eyes gave an infuriating twinkle. "I think you are giving Harry far too little credit, Severus. You may be surprised by what lies within his subconscious."

Snape gave him a suspicious glance but didn't say anything. "Remind me again, Albus," he drawled, "why you are sending me? Other than an attempt to make my life more miserable than it already is, of course."

"Severus, dear boy, haven't we gone through this? I, too, have read up on this Better Than Life potion and it seems that the person has to be able to provoke an extreme reaction in the victim in order to convince him to return to the real world. Therefore you are the best person."

"I have never before encountered such an ill-founded plan," Snape said as he stared at the vial. "But I suppose I am given no other choice." He gave a dry laugh. "After all, I am in your debt."

Albus sighed and looked searchingly at Snape. "Severus, you are not in my debt. But you will forgive me if I still hope that you will undertake this mission. You are the only person who can return Harry to us. I know it."

Snape folded his lips into a tight line. "I will no longer be in your debt once _- if - t_his task is completed."

A frown appeared on Albus's face, creasing his forehead sharply. "Dear boy, what do you mean?"

Snape stared at a spot above Albus's head, idly wondering whether the potion stain was caused by his Sixth year class this morning or the Second year class in the afternoon. Most likely the latter, he decided. The potion looked like a standard cleansing potion. "Assuming I am able to successfully extricate Potter from his mind, I will immediately withdraw my membership to the Order." His tone was firm. "Those are my conditions. I refuse to spy for you any longer." A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. "I am no Gryffindor with bucketfuls of bravery and honour to spare."

"Severus," Albus held out a hand to the other man who jerked his arm away so that the hand only brushed his sleeve. "If that is your wish. But I hope that you will not return to your old ways." He gave Snape an earnest look.

"What I do will no longer be dictated by you, Headmaster." Just the slightest emphasis was placed on the final word. "But rest assured, it is highly unlikely you will see me on either side of this upcoming war. I have no wish to die for your ideals nor for the Dark Lord's desires."

"I see," Albus said. "Well, this is not the outcome I would have hoped for, but I stand by what I said earlier; you are the best person to rescue Harry, whether you know it or not."

Snape didn't even bother to give Albus a look of disbelief this time. He held the potion up to the light and regarded it without saying a word.

Albus touched his arm gently. "I will leave you here. You may want to drink the potion in your own private quarters." He left.

Snape continued to look at the potion. The only hope of he entire wizarding world now lay in his hands. For if he didn't manage to extricate the boy from his own mind... Snape shuddered. Even though he had no particular moral values, he did not wish to see the wizarding population destroyed by a madman. And, he suspected, that if the Dark Lord was not stopped, that was exactly what would to happen.

Snape cleared up. Holding the vial gingerly in one hand and his notes on the potion in the other, he made his way to his own quarters.

He had no particular liking for the Potter boy and was not pleased to be given the task of rescuing him from a world of his own creation. He suspected that Albus had another reason for sending him on this ridiculous quest. An ulterior motive. The flimsy excuse that he was given didn't seem like enough. Snape bit back a groan as he realised that he might be soon spending the rest of his life – which would no doubt be very short – in Potter's mind. In a world where only Potter could exercise control, albeit subconsciously.

"Time to pay for sins," Snape muttered as he swallowed the contents.

A minute passed and Snape raised an eyebrow. Nothing seemed to have happened. He consulted the notes which were sitting on his bed. According to the book, he was supposed to immediately be connected with Potter's mind. Somehow, logically, Snape felt that something ought to happen. A whirling and tugging feeling like a Portkey, maybe. Or perhaps disorientation like Apparation. Even simply falling unconscious. But instead, he felt as though nothing had happened.

A slight suspicion entered his mind. _Was it possible? Could he already be in Potter's mind?_

Snape walked to the entrance of his chambers and opened the door. Everything looked normal. He went down the corridor, nodding to several of his Slytherins who nodded back. Everything still seemed normal.

Entering, the Great Hall, Snape noticed dinner was being served. As he headed towards the High Table, out of the corner of his eye, Snape noted the four tables and their inhabitants still in their usual place. Nothing unusual. Everybody seemed far more upbeat than normal, but Snape couldn't be sure. It couldn't be anything to worry about, so he ignored it. He studied the High Table.

The blood immediately drained from Snape's face and a muscle twitched. Oh no, he thought. This is not possible.

But it seemed like it was. Sitting there on the High Table, amongst the Hogwarts teachers, was Sirius Black.

"Sirius!"

Snape heard the shriek coming from behind him and managed to just get out of the way before a figure tore past him and launched himself onto Black. He blinked. It was Harry Potter. The boy was currently hugging his godfather in front of the entire Hogwarts population.

Snape blinked again. Harry Potter was hugging Black in front of the whole of Hogwarts, and no-one was batting an eyelid. Impossible! Black was _dead._ He had fallen through the veil. The entire Order – with the sole exception of Snape – had mourned the loss in their typically overwrought manner.

Unless... this could be one Potter's subconscious wishes.

Snape, breathing deeply, sat himself down at the very end of the High Table. Everybody ignored him. Was that another of Potter's wishes? Or was that simply normal behaviour for people around Snape and he had never noticed it before? Snape clamped down on that line of thought.

He made himself a cup of tea and settled down to listen to the conversation between Potter and the mutt.

Just how did you tell somebody that they had created a fantasy world in which to live and had now conveniently forgot that it was actually not real?

"I'm so sorry, Harry, for not being there during the Final Battle," Black was saying.

_Final Battle! _

"'S okay," Potter was saying. "It wasn't your fault. You were stuck behind that damned veil. But I'm glad I managed to finally kill Voldemort, only if because now you're back."

Snape could have choked on the earnestness that seemed to be emanating from Potter. _So one of Potter's greatest wishes is to defeat Voldemort._ Snape supposed that it wasn't that surprising. After all, he was expected to do so from the start. It would be great publicity. And Snape was sure that Potter would revel in, just like his father.

Although, as Snape looked around the Great Hall, he wondered why there wasn't a more concrete sign of the Dark Lord's defeat. Yes, it seemed hat everybody was in a joyous mood. But where were the news reporters? Where was Fudge who should be handing Potter an Order of Merlin (First Class) in that pompous tone of his? It didn't seem as though anybody except Black was paying Potter much attention.

"Now everything can go back to normal," Potter said softly. "I can finally be normal."

Snape gave a soft, but derisive laugh. He didn't want to draw undue notice to himself. _Pretentious even in your own mind, aren't you Potter?_ He sneered mentally.

He took a sip of pumpkin juice and resolved to tell Potter straight after dinner. No point in prolonging his own stay in this world.

-

For the first time since he had received his Hogwarts letter, Harry was truly happy. In the back of his mind, Harry remembered being abjectly miserable just a few days before, but right now, that sentiment seemed completely foreign.

This happiness had seemed to come in such a whirl that Harry was left dazed and slightly confused. But he didn't mind the hazy recollections because he was finally content.

A day ago, Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts and all the students had been sent out in the front line to fight. Harry couldn't remember exactly how he managed to defeat Voldemort, just that it had involved a very bright flash of light and an explosion. The next thing he could remember was waking up in the hospital wing with Sirius looking over him. At first, Harry had thought that he was a Death Eater in disguise and had tried to attack but Dumbledore had come over and explained that the Veil was somehow connected to Voldemort and upon his death, Sirius was released.

The reunion was joyous and Sirius told Harry that he would never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again because he could come live at Grimmauld place. It was then that Harry felt suddenly complete. Completely and utterly happy.

The happiness was increased threefold when Harry learned that Dumbledore had forbidden media and Ministry personnel from entering Hogwarts to interview him.

It was with a bounce in his step that Harry left the Great Hall after dinner to go back to Gryffindor Tower. He was going to get a few Galleons and the Map - which had reappeared in his possession - and then going to meet Ron and Hermione to have a Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. The rules governing students being out of the grounds had been relaxed for this auspicious occasion.

"Mister Potter." A cold voice made Harry stop.

He turned around and found himself staring up at the face of his Potions Master. His stomach twisted. Okay, perhaps things weren't so perfect after all. Just last night, Harry had held some hopes that relations between Snape and himself might not be so bad after all. Snape had shook hands with Sirius and they had managed to exchange a civil word. Snape had addressed Harry by his first name and Harry had even managed to talk to Snape for a few minutes about his father's treatment of Snape during their schooldays and thought that they had come to an understanding. But obviously not.

"Professor Snape," he said quietly, scuffling the toe of his boot on the ground.

There was a silence as Harry began to fidget with his clothing.

"Stop that," Snape said sharply.

"Yes sir."

"Look at me when you speak, Mister Potter."

Reluctantly, Harry dragged his gaze away from the flagstones on the ground and back to the face of his Potions Master. Was it just him, or did Snape look ... well, slightly nervous? Harry gave a silent and bitter laugh. More likely Snape was simply angry.

"You will see me in the Potions classroom at nine o'clock. I have something to show you." Snape's tone was abrupt. He turned on his heel and Harry was left watching him walk away, his cloak swirling about his body.

-

_Damn the infernal potion!_ Snape thought angrily as he walked away from the gaping Potter. He simply couldn't just _tell_ the boy. Not out of any misguided kindness, but rather because Snape suspected that if he told Potter without evidence of some sort then Potter would be likely to ask Albus to lock him up in St Mungo's. Snape shuddered. And knowing how this was all Potter's delusion he could actually end up there.

He veered into the library.

"Severus!"

Snape glared at the owner of the voice. "Madam Pince," he said.

She beamed at him. "Why aren't you at the celebrations?"

He hid a grimace behind a dispassionate expression. _Why had Potter needed to make everybody in this world so ... happy?_ "And, pray," he said smoothly, "When have you ever seen me at one of those gatherings willingly?"

She gaped at him, the expression looking strange on her usually stiff face. "But You-Know-Who is gone for good this time!"

Snape gave a short laugh. "I will see fit to truly celebrate when I see conclusive evidence of that." He brushed past her and into the dark recesses of the shelves. Snape could feel her suspicious glance on his back but chose to ignore it.

His eyes flicked over the spines of the books, careful not to touch any of them. Here in the Restricted Section of the library, books were known to do rather odd things from peculiar to outright dangerous. There had been rumours among the students during his third year that one of the books could eat you alive. A shiver ran down Snape's spine and he straightened imperceptibly.

Finally, he noticed the copy of Potions to Alter the World. Reaching out, Snape plucked the book off he shelves and slipped it into his pocket _Hopefully seeing the recipe of the potion would make Potter believe him. _

A knock sounded on the door to the Potions classroom at exactly five minutes past nine. Snape was seated in his customary place behind the desk with the book opened in front of him. "Come in," he ordered.

The door opened and Potter sidled in looking rather scared. "Sorry I'm late, sir." He folded up his invisibility cloak. When Snape raised an eyebrow, Potter looked rather sheepish as he said, "It was hard to get away from everybody."

Snape sneered. "The famous Harry Potter had to sneak away from his adoring audience. How unfortunate for him. Well I promise I won't detain you for long. I'm sure you miss your fans." _In the real world_, he added silently. _Assuming, of course, that you choose to believe me. _

To his surprise, Potter looked angry. "It's not my fault that they won't leave me alone."

Snape gave a mocking laugh. "Am I to believe that the famous Harry Potter actually dislikes all the attention he receives?" His voice was low and silky. "Why, Mister Potter, you have managed to outclass your father with all your attention seeking antics and we all know that is quite the achievement."

"Stop it!"

Surprise flickered briefly over Snape's face. "Insolence towards a teacher, Mister Potter, is not tolerated at this school."

Potter snorted. "And I suppose rudeness towards students is then, sir?" His tone was challenging. "You know, you almost had me fooled. I thought you had changed. Can you believe that we actually managed a civil conversation last night?"

Here was the perfect opening. "Actually, Mister Potter," Snape said, "I cannot imagine it. Perhaps that would be due to the fact that I was not the one having the conversation with you last night."

"Huh?" was Potter's not-so-erudite answer.

Snape held out the book to the boy. Potter gave it a suspicious glance. "Read the page."

Gingerly, Potter took the book from Snape's fingers and looked at the page. "Better Than Life potion?"

"Yes," Snape said as he watched Potter read the page.

Finally, when the boy had finished, Snape said with no small measure of irritation. "You ingested Better Than Life potion. This," he waved one hand in a semi-circle, "is a fantasy. A figment of your imagination."

Potter just stared at him. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "Wouldn't I remember taking the potion?"

"I suppose I should not expect any better from you Potter, after watching your pathetic performance in my classroom all these years. Did you actually read that page or did you simply skim it?" From the look on Potter's face, it was obvious that it was the latter. "If you had taken the time to read it properly then you would have learned that the potion hides itself from your conscious mind. You would not remember even looking up the potion much less actually taking the potion."

"But," Potter stopped and bit his lip. "But…"

"But what?" Snape snapped.

"But that's ridiculous!" Potter finally burst out. "Why would I take that potion? I'm happy! Why would I want to go into some sort of weird fantasy world?"

Snape gritted his teeth. It would do no good to be angry at the boy now, he told himself sternly. Save that for when you get back. If you get back. "Because your happiness happened _after_ you took the potion," he said. "Potter, listen to me. Voldemort isn't dead. Black is dead. None of this is real."

To his disgust, Snape saw Potter's bottom lip tremble. Then with a visible effort, Potter pulled himself together. "Well then, why are you here?"

"I'm here to save you," Snape said automatically before mentally berating himself. That sounded ridiculous and obviously even Potter realised that.

"Save me?" Potter repeated incredulously.

"Yes, save you," Snape said harshly. "If you weren't such a fool as to try to take a book out of the Forbidden Section and try to actually _brew _one of the potions listed, then we wouldn't be in this situation. It is a miracle that you didn't manage to kill yourself."

To his surprise, Potter gave a short laugh. "Well this wouldn't be the first time."

It took him a minute, but Snape managed to get the oblique reference. "You surprise me Potter," he said. "I would have never thought that you could have successfully brewed the Polyjuice in second year. Unless… of course. Granger helped you."

Potter glared at him but nodded anyway. "Yes, Hermione helped me."

Snape waited for him to say something else, but apparently, Potter was determined to remain silent. Snape took the time to study the boy intently. It seemed that Potter had affected some changes in this world to his own personal appearance. He looked… somewhat older than how Snape remembered. Or maybe Snape had simply not looked at the boy very much in the last two years. It was still rather painful to think about how the brat had got away with looking through Snape's Pensieve. All due to Albus's meddling.

"Think about it, Potter. All the happy things in your life. They have all happened within the past forty-eight hours, haven't they?"

Potter frowned. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "But that doesn't prove anything."

"If you want proof, all you have to do is believe that this is a fantasy world and want to leave. That should allow a doorway to appear so that we can get out of your mind. Rest assured, I wish to spend no more time here than necessary."

"And what if a doorway doesn't appear?" Potter still seemed to be very sceptical.

"It will," Snape said adamantly. It had better.

Closing his eyes, Potter seemed to be concentrating very hard. Opening them, he glanced around the classroom. "I see no doorway, Professor. Therefore you're lying."

Snape ground his teeth in frustration. "Well that would be because you aren't believing that this is a fantasy world," he hissed. "While you are frolicking around here, relaxing amongst your admirers, your friends may be _dying. _The Dark Lord will attack Hogwarts any day now. And after that, what next? Do you think that he will truly be happy with simply dominating Mudbloods and Muggles? None of us are safe if he gains absolute power!"

Potter let out a long slow breath. "I'm trying," he said petulantly. A nasty expression crossed his face and Snape was unpleasantly reminded of James Potter. "Perhaps, _sir,_" the insolent tone was obvious, "You're simply deluded. Perhaps all those years of playing the spy have addled your brain. After all, this a ridiculous story."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You impertinent brat!" he said, voice shaking. "You are being unbelievably selfish. Can you really believe that everything you wanted in life would all come true in two days?"

"Not everything." The mutter was barely audible to Snape.

"What?" he said sharply.

"Nothing!" Potter snapped. "Why shouldn't it? After all, I'm The Boy Who Lived! How many other people have survived Voldemort as many times as I have? Nobody! My life was ruined in less than an hour when my parents died. Why the hell shouldn't it fix itself in two days?" He stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.

Snape was again mildly surprised. "That is quite a lot of anger you are holding inside, Mister Potter," he said tonelessly.

Potter glared at him. "I know!" His shoulders slumped. "I know," he whispered.

"Potter," Snape stopped and took a deep breath. _You can do this_, he told himself sternly. _What's in one word?_ "Please." There it was out! Snape was inordinately pleased with himself. "Please just believe me. This isn't real."

A sigh escaped Potter's lips. "Actually, sir," he said quietly. "I do believe you. Now that I think about it, the events of the last two days have happened in an almost dream-like state. It doesn't feel real." He held up a hand, stopping Snape before he could speak, causing the man to glare at him. "I'm trying to will myself out of here, but no door is appearing." He shrugged. "I just don't know."

"Well then," Snape said. He looked closely at the boy. "As I am positive that I am not addled in the mind, there can only be one other reason why the doorway isn't appearing."

Potter looked quizzical.

"You don't want to leave this world."

-

The words hit Harry like one of Dudley's punches to his stomach. At first, there was a sort of numbness as he digested them and then it began to hurt. Painfully. He could feel tears building up in his eyes and he blinked frantically to get rid of them. It wouldn't do to cry in front of Snape, of all people. "You're right," he finally managed to whisper, his voice shaking. "I don't want to leave." Harry pulled out one of the chairs and sank down onto it. He looked down at his feet.

"Potter."

Harry was surprised. The tone of the voice wasn't the sneering or derogatory one he had heard earlier this evening. Nor was it the sympathetic and pitying tones of his friends during most of fifth and sixth year. It was a matter-of-fact tone. And there was a shade of understanding in it.

"Potter," Snape said again, his voice also quiet. "I can understand the temptation to stay, but it's not the right thing to do."

Harry let out a derisive laugh. "The right thing?" he asked mockingly. "I've done the right thing my entire life and look at where it's left me. At least I'm happy here, where everything has turned out all right."

"But it isn't real, Potter."

Harry could sense Snape becoming frustrated, but his voice was still quiet and non-threatening. "Does it matter?"

Snape snorted. "Don't think that you're the only one. Don't make the mistake of thinking that you're the only one who is suffering because of this war. We all want to leave sometimes Potter. All of us wish that we could just escape. But we can't. We all have responsibilities. And we must fulfil those responsibilities."

"And what if I never wanted them?"

"It doesn't matter. They're still there."

Finally, Harry looked up and into the dark eyes of his teacher. "For the first time in my life today I was happy, and now you want to take it away from me." His voice was bitter. "Even you couldn't be that cruel."

"It's not cruelty. Find your happiness in the real world. Don't hide in fantasies."

Harry snorted. "And what would you know of that?"

"I know." Snape's lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "Why do you think I joined the Death Eaters? Not out of some misbegotten pureblood ideals; that, I can assure you."

Harry studied his hands. There was a blot of ink on one. _It's shaped a bit like a dragon_, he thought idly. "It isn't as though I think I shouldn't leave," he said. "I know I ought to leave. But I don't want to." He shrugged. "False world or not, aren't I deserving of some happiness at least? And the potion keeps my body alive. So what does it matter?"

"It matters," Snape said harshly, "Because people are relying on you in the real world. People could die because of your selfishness."

"It won't make a difference," Harry whispered. "Voldemort is going to kill us all. I just want happiness before I die."

-

Snape looked at the boy, disbelief evident on his face. "Potter, what makes you think that you are going to die?"

"The prophecy." A pause. "I have to kill Voldemort, or he kills me." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm not even strong enough to cast Crucio. How am I supposed to cast Avada Kedavra? So I'm going to die. Simple as that. And once I'm dead, he's going to kill my friends anyway. Selfish as it sounds, at least this way I get some happiness before my inevitable death."

Snape just stared. He had had no idea that Potter felt like this. The blank, dispassionate way the boy had just semi-recited the words showed him that Potter had spent far more time thinking about this topic than was healthy. _And what am I supposed to do?_ Snape didn't know how likely it was that the Dark Lord would be defeated with Potter fighting with them, but he did know that without Potter, the Light side was as good as gone already. With a slight shock, Snape realised that Potter hadn't simply taken the potion on a whim. It was a calculated gesture on the part of a boy who believed that he was to die. And taking the life version of the potion was also deliberate. Snape felt the slightest stirrings of respect for Potter's potion brewing skills. It wasn't an easy potion to brew.

"So you just give up…" Snape said, still not knowing what to say or how to convince Potter that it truly was better for him to return to the real world.

"Yes." Potter lifted his head. Snape noticed that the eyes of the boy were glazed, as if he was in a daze.

An idea was slowly occurring to Snape. "Potter, do you not wonder why I agreed to come and rescue you?"

The boy blinked. Obviously the question had never occurred to him.

"I came because as my," Snape's upper lip curled, "r_eward_ for getting you back safely, I am allowed to sever any and all ties with the Order." From the expression in Potter's eyes, he obviously had no idea what Snape was getting at. "So as you can see, I have a vested interest in getting you back into the real world. I have been spying for Dumbledore for over seventeen years. It is not a job I particularly enjoy. I will enjoy leaving."

Potter gave a twisted smile. "So you were lying when you were talking about responsibilities, then?"

Snape mentally re-ran the conversation they had just had in his head and sighed. "There are degrees of responsibility and I believe I have atoned for my error of judgement all those years ago."

"And what does all this have to do with me? Why should I care?"

He gave a brief thought to how well Potter would have done in Slytherin. Very practical and goal orientated people always did well in his house. "Because," he waved his hand in a circle, "from what I can see of your," a brief sneer, "_perfect world_, all you want is to be normal."

Potter just stared at him. "I never would have thought that you would admit that."

Ignoring that comment, Snape folded his arms and leaned forward on his desk and fixed Potter with a sharp look. "You have more than two choices."

A furrow appeared on Potter's brow. "You mean," he said slowly, "that I have a choice other than being murdered or being a murderer."

Snape made an exasperated sound. "Yes," he retorted. "That is exactly what I mean."

"And what would the other choice or choices be?" Potter was obviously highly dubious of Snape's claims.

"I'm surprised that one of your Muggle-born friends – such as that Granger girl – wouldn't have mentioned it to you already."

"And this wonderful idea would be…?"

"Establish a truce with the Dark Lord. Sign a treaty." Snape watched Potter carefully as he said these words. This idea wasn't a new one to him, but he wasn't sure how the Gryffindor boy would accept it. It would most likely go against everything Potter had been taught since he came to Hogwarts. _But hopefully, the boy wouldn't be entirely unreceptive to the idea._

"A treaty," Potter repeated incredulously. "You want me to sign a fucking treaty with the most evil man to walk the earth!"

Snape made a tsking sound. "No need for histrionics or language, Potter."

"Sorry, _sir_, for the language," Potter bit out. "I'm not being histrionic."

Mild amusement filled Snape when he realised that Potter's vocabulary was obviously not as deficient as he had thought. _Maybe the boy has a brain within that pretty little head after all._ Snape clamped down on that particular line of thought. _Pretty _little head? Did he just think that? No doubt the extended amount of time spent in Potter's fantasy world was starting to affect his senses.

"Potter," he began carefully, "surely it is time for you to realise that the world cannot be simply painted in black and white."

"Shades of grey, I know," Potter interrupted. "But that doesn't stop the fact that Voldemort is not exactly a good person. Okay, maybe not purely evil, but certainly no upstanding agent for the Light. He kills people without a second thought!"

Obviously Potter was thinking of that Diggory boy again, Snape thought with a mental sigh.

"And I thought that you said that Voldemort was a menace," Potter continued, looking sceptically at Snape.

"I said no such thing," Snape answered smoothly. "I said that none of us would be truly safe if he gained absolute power. But with a peace treaty limiting his movements, he wouldn't have that absolute power, would he?"

"I suppose not. But that still doesn't make it the right thing to do."

Snape threw up his hands, forgetting that he had let go of these ridiculous adolescent notions years ago. "Right and wrong, Potter, are such nebulous concepts. You know the theory behind the world being shades of grey, now it's time for you to learn the reality. Do you think that all the Aurors are immaculate? Do you think they have never killed? What do you think Dumbledore expects you to do? What do you think the so-called Light side expects you to do? They expect you to kill Voldemort! They expect you to soil your hands with his blood. And then what? How much blood must the wizarding world endure? How much longer before the Muggles realise that we exist and decide to exterminate us like rats?" Snape stopped, breathing heavily. "Did you really think that only Death Eaters killed?"

Potter seemed speechless as his eyes blinked over and over again behind those round glasses. "I think I understand now," he said quietly, biting his lower lip. "You want to protect the entire wizarding world."

"Congratulations Potter," Snape said, tiredly, his voice tinged with the tiniest bit of sarcasm. "I'm not saying that it would be easy to convince the Dark Lord that a truce would be in his best interests, but I," he took a deep breath, "am willing to help you on that."

"You would be willing to help?"

"Yes. Do you think I want to see our world destroyed by the upcoming war? And even if we aren't destroyed, the sheer numbers of people who will be involved will undoubtedly bring us to the attention of Muggles. I don't know about you Potter, but I did pay attention in History of Magic. Muggles aren't more tolerant than us."

"But," Potter started and then stopped. He buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what to think." He gave a soft laugh. "What you say makes sense. Too much sense."

Snape had a feeling he knew what Potter was thinking but decided to ask anyway. "What are you thinking?"

Potter didn't answer his question. "Why are you being so… nice?" he asked instead.

"I'm not being nice," Snape answered truthfully. "This, Potter, is called pragmatism. I am making the best of the situation. Once we are back in the real world, I am no longer bound to Albus. No longer bound to spy for him." A bitter smile. "I am finally free to live my life after twenty years and I wish to make sure that a world still exists where I can enjoy it."

"Strange," Potter muttered, "but I can almost understand the sentiment."

A world ruled by Potter and the Dark Lord. Snape mused over this idea. Somehow, he felt that it would work. Potter would command support from the Mudbloods and half-bloods whereas the Dark Lord already controlled the purebloods. "Do you still want to stay in this world?" he asked carefully.

Potter shrugged. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "I don't know," he admitted. "It is enticing. But," his face hardened, making him look far older than his seventeen years, "I don't want to abandon my friends to die. Not if there is some way I can fix it."

Years of practice had allowed Snape to keep an emotionless face in the most trying of circumstances but even he was hard-pressed to hide an exultant expression. _I'm free_, he thought numbly. _A mistake at the age of seventeen trapped me for twenty years, but I'm finally free. _ "Well, Potter, what are you waiting for?"

Frowning at him, Potter scrunched his face into an expression of concentration again. Immediately a shimmering, golden archway appeared in the Potions classroom.

Snape was amazed as he looked at the doorway. Somehow, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he hadn't expected this to work. After all, it hadn't worked for anybody else who had attempted a rescue, had it?

"We have to walk through that?"

"Yes," Snape said abruptly. He stood up and pushed his chair back. To Potter's obvious surprise, he walked around the desk and grasped Potter's hand, which was warm and slightly sweaty. "We must be touching to get back safely."

"Okay," Potter croaked.

Snape looked down at him and realised that the boy was trembling. _Fear?_ He thought, slightly amused. _He is still scared of me?_ Briefly, he met Potter's eyes and saw a flicker of something in them. It was Snape's time to bite his bottom lip. _Perhaps not fear then_, he thought with quite a bit of surprise as they passed through the shimmering archway.

-

Harry wasn't sure why his heart was pounding in his ears or why his knees were trembling. After all, he was just holding his Potion Master's hand. Logically, he should be cringing away in disgust or be simply apathetic to the whole event. After all, it was _necessary._ Snape had almost spelt that out. A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. He had felt this way when first talking to Cho. He immediately pushed it away. It was ridiculous.

As they passed through the archway, Harry felt a mildly pleasant sensation as if he was a car and had just passed through a Muggle style carwash. Now if he didn't feel so damn sleepy… as if he couldn't keep his eyes open at all…

The next thing Harry remembered was opening his eyes and realising – with a groan – that he was yet again in the Hospital Wing. A disgusting potion of some sort was being pushed under his nose.

"Drink this," a female voice ordered and Harry complied with a grimace.

"W…what is it?" he finally managed to croak out.

"A nourishing potion," the voice told him briskly. Harry wracked his brains and finally came up for a name for the voice. It was Madam Pomfrey. "Escaping from that world leeched out all your energy. You have been asleep for over two weeks.

"Harry."

The voice came from Harry's other side so he turned his head, wincing at the pain in his neck. He saw Dumbledore sitting there, looking down at him calmly.

"We are all so very glad that you are alright, dear boy," Dumbledore told him.

Harry didn't answer. He was still running the conversation he had with Snape through his head. Did he really agree that he would try to work out a _treaty _with Voldemort?

When he tuned in again to what Dumbledore was saying, he found the Headmaster scolding him. "Now, Harry, we all know how much pressure you are under, and I take blame for most of the pressure but these are dangerous times we are living in. You're our only hope for defeating Voldemort."

Not knowing how to answer, Harry simply didn't.

Dumbledore sighed and stood up, brushing his robes off. "Rest now, Harry," he said softly. "I will be back to see you soon."

Harry opened his mouth to ask about his friends, but Dumbledore had already left. "Annoying old bastard," he muttered under his breath.

"As much as it pains me, Mister Potter," came the slow drawl from the bed across the room, "I have to agree with that assessment."

"Professor Snape!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up and grimacing at the pain in his joints.

"Mister Potter," Snape said evenly.

"I remember what we discussed," Harry said when it became apparent that Snape wasn't going to say anything else. It seemed just so … ridiculous under light of day. Stupid. Suicidal, even.

He was surprised when Snape answered, "You are not bound by your promise, Potter."

Harry looked at his teacher in surprise. "I'm not?" he repeated, well aware that he sounded like a dolt.

"You're not," Snape confirmed. "But it would do you well to keep some of what I said in mind in the next few months."

Harry nodded. There was a long silence and then he blurted out, "Are you really leaving then, Professor Snape?"

"There is no more need for the Professor, Mister Potter," Snape said. "Yes, I am leaving. This evening, in fact."

"Have you told Dumbledore yet?" Harry asked. He berated himself. Just because Snape had talked civilly with him in his fantasy world didn't mean that the courtesy extended to the real world. But a larger part of him was simply curious at what Dumbledore's response was.

"There is no need to," Snape answered and Harry could have sworn that he saw a flicker of amusement in the man's dark eyes. "I informed before I attempted the rescue that if I were to return, I would leave his services."

Harry grinned unexpectedly. "Does that mean we won't have a Potions teacher?"

Snape looked at the boy and nodded affirmation.

Any other questions Harry might have asked were stopped when skidding footsteps were heard outside the Hospital Wing. A red head was poked through the door. It was Ron. "Harry!" he cried and flung open the door.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Hermione rushed through the door and wrapped her arms around Harry. "We were all so worried."

Harry smiled at his friends once Hermione had let go. "I'm fine now." And he felt like he could almost believe it.


	2. Life I

**Part 2: Life I**

It was supposed to be over.

The war was supposed to be over _years_ ago. Everybody agreed with that statement. Even the Daily Prophet ran a lead article on: _The Never-Ending War_. Populations on both sides of the divide were being decimated slowly. Even neutral parties didn't hold much faith in their ability to survive.

And Harry was beginning to regret his hasty decision at the end of his seventh year. He wondered if he fully comprehended the bloodiness of war back then, whether he should have taken Snape up on his offer of a treaty with Voldemort.

Letting out a long breath, Harry signed into the Ministry. "Harry Potter, Auror Division," he told the Guard and handed over his wand. The Guard took the wand and placed it in a verifier.

It beeped once and Harry was reminded of Muggle machines. Muggle items were finding their way into the wizarding world so quickly nowadays. Even some newly produced wizarding products seemed to have a Muggle tinge. Not that, Harry thought, a Non-Blotting Quill is a bad thing.

The Guard waved him through.

As Harry entered the Auror Division of the Ministry, he pressed his palm on the scanner by the door. Another Muggle invention, he thought with a slight mental grimace.

The Ministry nowadays was well known for being pro-Muggle. Or rather, more accurately speaking, pro-Muggle items. Harry wasn't sure which was worse in the eyes of some wizards. This change hadn't taken anybody by surprise but its extent had. It was predicted that the wizarding world and the Ministry itself would adjust (being progressive, it was called) once Arthur Weasley was in power, but nobody expected it would change so much. Or so quickly.

Harry wondered whether Arthur ever read the reports sent to him by the Auror Division on the rise of anti-Muggle sentiment brought about by the absorption of Muggle culture into the wizarding world. He suspected that they were read but ignored. Arthur always had far too much of a soft spot for Muggles.

When walking in Diagon Alley nowadays, Harry heard virulent anti-Muggle sentiment everywhere. Always whispered.

_"They're destroying our culture. Maybe," hesitation, "maybe You-Know-Who had the right idea."_

He also heard equally impassioned pro-Muggle arguments from people who were usually Muggle-born or halfbloods.

_"The wizarding world was stagnating before Muggle culture was introduced. It was backwards. Muggle culture is revitalising this world!"_

Everywhere Harry looked the wizarding world was being divided into two. _This_, he thought ironically, _is exactly what Voldemort wants._ Muggle-borns against purebloods with the halfbloods being torn between the two, wavering and never knowing where to stand.

"Harry!" Hannah Abbott exclaimed as she hurried over. She was one of about five in their year level who had had come to work for the Auror Division when they left Hogwarts. She handed Harry a piece of paper. "Another Muggle-born and their family was Obliviated last night."

Harry looked at the piece of paper with unseeing eyes.

"Harry?" Hannah sounded concerned. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine." He walked towards his desk and sat down at it.

_What is Voldemort doing?_ he wondered. In the past few years, Voldemort's actions had changed from making Muggle-borns simply 'disappear' to Obliviating them and their families. Harry had to admit that the latter policy was somewhat kinder but he wasn't sure by how much. Oblivation was permanent, especially when it was cast by a powerful enough witch or wizard. _And these were,_ Harry thought grimly. It was as though Voldemort wanted to make sure Muggle-borns disappeared from the wizarding world and he was achieving it in a way that got a relatively large amount of public support from centrist witches and wizards.

He stared at the report.

The unfortunate wizard and his immediate family were now in St. Mungo's undergoing a de-wizardifying process. Exactly what Voldemort wants, Harry thought with a tinge of morbid humour. We're playing right into his hands. At this rate, soon there would be no Muggle-borns left in the wizarding world.

The prophecy was almost ridiculous now that he thought about it and he wasn't entirely sure that Trelawney wasn't simply hallucinating when she said it. It gave no provisions for what would happen if there was simply a stalemate. Voldemort didn't attack Harry and the Ministry simply couldn't find out where Voldemort was fast enough to launch their own attack.

Something needed to be done.

Harry simply wasn't sure what.

Snape wasn't enjoying his retirement away from the mysteries and intrigues of spy work as much as he thought he would. After spending most of his years spying, he found that living any other way was tiresome. Even six years after he had quit, Snape still couldn't bring himself to lower the level of the wards in his house, not even slightly. These current wards were a pain to put up but he felt secure within them.

It was a cool spring day when Snape felt somebody testing his wards. It had been quite a while since anybody had decided to visit him, friendly or otherwise, and Snape couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of alarm.

The alarm tripled as he felt the person slide through the wards like through a curtain of water, annoying but not in anyway impeding their movement. He withdrew his wand from his pocket and walked towards the breach in the ward with his back to the wall. As he neared the gap he could see a man standing there, not doing anything. His profile ooked familiar.

"Don't move," Snape said softly, lifting his wand and pointing it at the man. "Or I will curse you."

The man slowly spun around and Snape was surprised when he recognised the face. It was Harry Potter. Still eminently recognisable, despite the fact Snape hadn't been keeping up with wizarding affairs. There was something about the startling green eyes and messy black hair that Snape suspected would haunt him for the rest of his days. Still keeping his wand up, he asked, "What are you doing breaking and entering into my house, Potter?"

Potter stared at him. "You said that I could contact you."

Snape frowned and tried to remember words that were spoken over six years ago. "I believe," he finally said, his voice dry, "I said that you should consider the option over the _next few months_. I assumed that time period had passed."

Shifting slightly, Potter said. "Could you stop pointing that wand at me?"

Snape could tell that Potter was itching to grab his own wand. Auror training, he thought with a mental smirk. You would think that they'd train people to not show it when they're agitated. Slowly, he lowered his wand. "Perhaps we should take this discussion in my kitchen," he said, turning around and walking away. Behind him, he could hear Potter's hurried footsteps as he caught up and fell into step with him. Reaching the kitchen, Snape asked, "Would you like some tea?"

The surprise was visible in those bright green eyes. "Sure," Potter said, sounding nervous. "No milk, no sugar, cream."

"Tell me," Snape said as he put the kettle on the boil. He liked his tea the old-fashioned way, before heating spells were invented. "Whatever made you change your mind after six years of pursuing one policy?" He kept his tone deliberately casual, a skill he had perfected during his years of spying.

"It would be the six years of that one policy," Potter said grimly. "It's obviously not working if we're still here, fighting and being slowly wiped out." He stared around him and then outside the small window into the Scottish moorland. "Even here you must hear the rumours that we are losing our key support bases."

Slowly, Snape nodded. "I have heard rumours," he admitted. It was more than rumours actually, he thought wryly, but he wasn't going to tell Potter this. He had actually been contacted, several times, over the past four years about joining the New Movement. Apparently the Death Eaters and by proxy, Voldemort, had undergone a metamorphosis and were now something similar but subtly different to what they were before. He was careful to let none of his conflicting emotions show on his face. He had come very close to joining.

"Well they're not rumours," Potter said harshly, his mouth set in a thin line. "Our key support bases are being undermined every year. We can't afford to keep on fighting a drawn out war."

"Any luck in finding where the Dark Lord's key base is?"

Potter's eyes met his own and Snape couldn't help the small shiver that went down his spine. He kept his face impassive. "I can't help but notice," Potter said, "that you still call him by his title."

"Old habits die hard," Snape said, an edge in his voice as he put a dollop of cream into Potter's tea. He handed the small teacup to Potter.

Potter swirled his teaspoon in the tea before bringing it up and licking the cream off it. As Snape watched Potter lick the teaspoon, he gave himself a mental kick. "And the answer to your question is no," Potter said.

Snape gave a start before he realised that Potter hadn't suddenly developed the ability to read his mind. Not that he could anyway. Snape always Occluded his mind nowadays. "Why are you here then?" he asked, despite knowing what the answer would be.

Obviously Potter knew that because he looked surprised. "You need ask?" He gave a small wry grin. "I'm here to ask for the help you offered six years ago. I hope it's still available."

Probably more so now than six years ago, was Snape's first thought which he immediately blocked from being visible on his face. To be honest, he had found the past six years of doing little but occasional Potions work to be rather boring. Although his years of spying were rife with danger, Snape had to admit that he had never been bored. Crucio tended to make someone's life very interesting. "It depends on what sort of help is needed," he said carefully.

Potter paused and when his answer came, it was equally cryptic. "The exact same help you offered me when I ingested that potion."

It made Snape wonder whether the rumours of the Ministry watching the actions of its Aurors was correct or not. Apparently Arthur Weasley was far more scared of possible coups being hatched than Fudge ever was. But still, Snape frowned, it was unlikely that a listening spell would be attached to Harry Potter unless something had changed drastically in the years he'd been away.

He stared at Potter, at the still-bright green eyes, at the mouth with the cynical twist at the corner, and at the way Potter's hand seemed to hover around his wand. Should I, he wondered. Could this all be just an elaborate trick? Somehow, he doubted it as he lifted his wand.

Potter flinched but all Snape did was cast a silencing and blocking spell.

Well, he thought grimly, _all_ was a bit of an understatement. He wondered whether Potter would recognise the spell.

Apparently he did. Potter's mouth tightened in astonishment. "You have kept up on your knowledge." His tone was neutral.

"No need to be coy, Potter," Snape said irritably. "I'm well aware it's a Dark Arts spell."

"Are you also aware that it's one of the few non-Unforgivable spells that carry a life sentence in Azkaban?" Potter inquired.

Snape hesitated before nodding. There was no point in lying. In fact, if Potter had been here to test his loyalty to the Ministry, Snape had no illusions that Ministry Aurors would be Apparating outside his cottage very soon. The mere fact he could hear no untoward noises, lent credibility to Potter's tale. He had to admit though, that he was very surprised that Potter was here. He never expected the boy – well, man now, he corrected himself – to take his advice once outside the influence of the potion. "Why have you come now?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Why not a few years ago?"

"The situation's worse now," Potter said. He let out a slow breath. "I've been _trying_to make them listen, but nobody seems to even hear me. If this war keeps on dragging on, we'll all be killed."

"You would be willing to have a truce with the Dark Lord?" Snape questioned. "Even though he killed your parents?"

"I would rather that than see our world destroyed," Potter snapped. "This is the only home I've known."

Snape nodded. He rather suspected it was something like that.

"Also," Potter continued, after a short hesitation, "it's only a number of years before the Muggles find out about us. History goes in cycles, after all."

Snape raised an eyebrow. He wouldn't have thought that Potter was a fervent student of history, wizarding or Muggle. But, he had to admit that he agreed. Muggles were increasingly being caught in the middle of fights between rival wizards. Collateral damage, it was called by the Daily Prophet. When Snape heard that term being applied to the death of over 2000 Muggles, he couldn't help laughing.

"You needn't look so surprised," Potter muttered. "I'm not stupid."

"I haven't called you that for a long time," Snape pointed out. "So now it is you who wants to save our world?"

Potter's mouth quirked to one side and Snape resisted the urge to smooth out the lines. "It sounds trite, doesn't it?" he said. "The Boy Who Lives wanting to save the wizarding world again."

"You are aware that if you go through with this, it won't be accepted by…"

"The majority of the wizarding world?" Potter interrupted.

Snape pursed his lips. He hated it when people interrupted him. He gave a brief nod. "Potter, never interrupt me again," he said. "It's rude."

Potter stared at him. "You don't have a monopoly on being rude."

Snape gave a mental sigh. "It was for your own good, Potter," he said. "You'll realise that sooner or later. Perhaps when you become mature enough." It's true, he told himself.

"Right," Potter said sceptically. "Your classes toughened me up so now I'm a better Auror because of it?" He gave a sharp little laugh.

Snape suppressed a slight shiver of recognition of his younger self in Potter's eyes. There was something about the stubborn set of his mouth, the slightly tense muscles, the darkened green eyes that suggested a man who was obsessed with control. And then that was gone and before him was simply the same Harry Potter he had seem in his class for seven years. It was as though the young man was wavering on the cusp of growing up, but wasn't sure where to go. Snape supposed that if he was a nicer person, more concerned with the welfare of others, that he would try to give some words of advice or support. Then he decided that was the job of other, _nicer_ people. "Exactly," he said stiffly.

"Are you going to help me or not?" The dark look came into his eyes again.

Snape felt that he was probably going to regret the decision. "Yes," he said.

It would have been an understatement to say that Peter Pettigrew was surprised and scared when Severus Snape suddenly Apparated in front of him. Closer to reality would be to say that he was shocked and terrified. He had tried to contact Snape several times in the past few years at the Dark Lord's behest but to no avail. The older man – the _traitor_, Peter thought viciously to himself – had been virtually incommunicado for the past six years. Some of the lower ranks had managed to speak to the man but nobody from Snape's past had managed to get closer than an owl away. As Peter studied his old classmate, he could see tired lines around the other man's eyes, but the eyes themselves were as sharp as always.

"Peter Pettigrew," Snape said smoothly. "I thought I would find you here."

Peter felt a shiver slide through his body. Snape's voice was as smooth and as convincing as it had always been. "S-Snape," he said, hating the tremor in his voice. "How did you get here?"

One black eyebrow rose. "You are asking how I managed to find you here." Snape inquired, looking faintly amused. "Surely you didn't imagine I wouldn't follow the agents you sent over the years."

Actually, Peter didn't think that Snape would have. He assumed that Snape after years of not being in the spy business would have relaxed somewhat. Apparently not. He wouldn't put it past the man to have Apparated to several points across the world just to throw off possible trackers before coming here today.

"I must say," Snape continued, almost pleasantly, "that I was surprised to find that the Dark Lord had put you as his spymaster."

Why, Peter thought furiously. Because I was always a _follower_ at Hogwarts? Grow up Snape, that time's passed.

"Then again," Snape said, with a glint in his dark eyes, "you were the best spy we ever had. The most notorious, certainly. The traitor."

Peter took slow, even breaths. "I would disagree, _Severus_," he said, pacing his words to get rid of the stutter. "You haven't been on _our_ side for a very long time. Hence, it would seem to me that _you_ were the best spy."

Snape let out a short laugh. "Clever, Pettigrew, very clever. It would seem that you've grown up at last. But I'm afraid I'm not here to play best spy."

"Well then," Peter said cuttingly. "What are you here for?" He decided to figure out how Snape had gotten here later. They had to fix the weakness he had obviously exploited, otherwise, who else might find it?

"I'm here as an agent of Harry Potter," Snape said, one corner of his mouth curled into an ironic smile.

Peter couldn't help staring. It sounded ridiculous. Besides, from what he knew, Snape used to – and most likely still did – hate Harry Potter. And even putting all that aside, Potter was still on the other side of the war and what business did he have to be sending anybody – much less than an agent – here to talk to Peter of all people. An unpleasant thought occurred to him. "Surely," he said with a sneer, "Potter isn't as naive as to be asking for our surrender." Peter didn't think he was, but he knew never to assume anything in a game like this.

"He is not asking for your surrender," Snape said calmly. "Harry Potter would like an audience with the Dark Lord in five days time on neutral ground. Wands clamped."

Peter gave an involuntary shiver at those words. "Clamped?" he repeated.

"Surely you do remember that Potter grew up with Muggles," Snape told him. "He doesn't know the implications of clamping to the normal wizard. Yet, surely you can take it as some measure of his sincerity."

There was nothing Peter could do but nod. Clamping a wizard's wand was very serious. It essentially meant that anybody within distance of throwing a spell would have their wand disabled by a pre-set spell in the area. There was no known method around the clamping spell and it was one easily detectable while outside the region marked. Briefly, Peter wondered whether Snape had discovered a method around the spell but then decided it was unlikely. "I will approach the Dark Lord with your offer," he said.

Snape nodded. He obviously knew that this was the way things went. "You know where to reach me," he said. "We would like an answer quickly." With a _crack!_ he Apparated away, leaving Peter staring at the spot where he was.

Peter was inclined to believe that it was all in his mind except for the fact he could see the depressed stems of grass from where Snape stood. A part of him was angry that he obviously hadn't done his job thoroughly enough if Snape was so easily able to find him.

However, the other part of him was simply curious. He wondered what the meaning of the meeting on neutral ground would be. Peter let himself entertain a brief thought of Potter's surrender before he Apparated away himself.

"I'm intrigued," Voldemort said as Peter knelt before him and told him the news. "Wands clamped, you say?" His red eyes darkened.

Peter nodded.

"Well I suppose we'll have to agree to this meeting," Voldemort said. "Be sure to choose a place that can be surrounded by my Death Eaters. Potter will not be walking away from this, foolish boy."

"Avebury?" Snape said with a sneer as the owl came with the co-ordinates for Apparation a few minutes before the designated meeting time. "How lovely."

Harry was somewhat worried though. "Even with the clamping spell, it's his choice of meeting point. How do I know that he doesn't have Muggle versions of violence waiting for me?"

"That's not his style," Snape said simply. "He will listen to you, even if it is simply to satisfy his own curiosity. There is no guarantee of your safety afterwards though. If you don't want to go through this," he paused. "Harry, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. There is still a chance that we can win this war against him."

Harry gave a start as he heard his given name used. "I refuse to let any more people die in this war," he said, determination filling his voice. "If anybody else dies, it'll be me."

"If you die, then all the Muggle-borns are doomed to being Obliviated," Snape said.

"It's better than them dying by fighting Death Eaters," Harry snapped. "Our most intelligent people are dying from curses. Our entire population, purebloods, halfbloods _and _Muggle-borns, is being decimated. This is the only way."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

Harry opened his mouth and then realised that he did sound like that. "So what if I am?" he said quietly.

"I'm just asking whether you have the right to make the decision for the entire wizarding world?"

"It was your suggestion," Harry snapped, getting irritated. He clenched his fists. "I would have never thought of it if you hadn't suggested it."

"That may be," Snape conceded. "Nevertheless, think of the ramifications of your actions before you continue." There was a strange note in his voice. Harry could have sworn it sounded like a warning.

Harry gave a curt nod. "Our current policy isn't working. I've seen the results of it first-hand. We need to do something else and if the Ministry isn't able to do it, I will." He set his lips in a thin line.

Snape gave a shrug. "Well, after you then," he indicated.

Harry Disapparated with his eyes closed tightly.

He felt the strange shiver that flickered through his body, almost as if all his atoms were rearranged, which, Harry thought, was precisely what happened. As he opened his eyes, he could see that he was standing in a clearing with towering pieces of rock around them. He could see a small Muggle village in the distance and sheep milling around the rocks. About ten metres away, in the fast dimming twilight, he could see a tall figure who was staring away from Harry. As he watched, the figure turned around and Harry caught a glimpse of red eyes. A shiver ran down Harry's spine. This certainly wouldn't have been his ideal choice of location but it suited Voldemort. In front of him, he could see a full moon, casting dark shadows among the rocks and trees.

He felt the air shift behind him and turning slightly, Harry saw Snape standing there. Somehow knowing that Snape was there helped him slightly.

"Mister Potter."

Harry fought to keep his breathing even as he heard the words. Voldemort's tone was low, his tone sibilant and every syllable slightly hissed. "Voldemort," he said, proud of his even tone.

"I see Severus has seen it fit to accompany you," Voldemort said as he walked forward into the semi-light of the clearing. Harry noted the changes since he had last seen him. There was the obvious magical shimmer of a glamour, but even the glamour couldn't disguise those eyes. He looked around. "Isn't it pathetic how the Muggles have chosen to destroy such a beautiful place? This was once an ancient druid circle. Muggles pulled it down to build their houses."

Harry ignored his attempt at conversation. After all, they weren't there to discuss druid circles. "The clamping spell is in position?" he asked, despite the fact he could feel it. Just moving in this clearing made him feel slightly nauseous. It was like moving through thick air."

Voldemort laughed sharply. "Mister Potter, surely you can tell whether the spell is up or not." He beckoned slightly and out of the shadows on the edge of the clearing, Harry saw a familiar, rotund figure walk towards them. He squinted and paled. "Surely you know Wormtail. He was friends with your parents, I believe."

Harry clenched his hands into fists. "It's nice to see you again," he said through gritted teeth. He hadn't seen this traitor since the last full scale battle, more than four years ago, but his feelings about the little _rat _hadn't changed one iota. From the lack of surprise on Snape's face, Harry surmised that the other man knew that Pettigrew would be here. This knowledge made Harry surprisingly angry, as Snape hadn't told him.

"Now," Voldemort said smoothly, "perhaps you care to tell us why we are all gathered here?"

Harry took a deep breath and hoped that this wasn't the dumbest idea he had ever come up with. "This war is ruining the wizarding world," he began.

Voldemort stared at him, mild surprise in the red eyes. "I agree, Mister Potter," he said. "That is nothing new."

That was good news, Harry thought. "If the war goes on, our world _will_ be destroyed." He swallowed, hating the fact that it was heard clearly in the silence. This wasn't his job, he thought furiously. He was an Auror. He wasn't a diplomat. He wasn't trained to deal with these matters. "I'm here to offer you a truce. A deal."

Harry heard a slight snort come from Pettigrew which was immediately silenced as Voldemort turned his head. As he studied Voldemort's face, he could tell that he was thinking. "Mister Potter, this is an interesting thought. Not to disparage your intelligence, but am I right to say that this is Severus's idea?"

"I'm afraid," Snape said equally smoothly as Harry hesitated, "that is irrelevant. We are here to offer you a truce. Whose idea it was is beside the point."

"What gives you that right?" Voldemort asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry was somewhat puzzled. So far, Voldemort sounded almost sane, almost normal. He sounded nothing like the thing that emerged from the cauldron in his fourth year. Nothing like the person who taunted him in his fifth year.

Voldemort had obviously noticed his frown because he said dryly, "Despite what you may have been told or what you thought you saw, I am not insane, Mister Potter. Tell me, could an insane man stand against the incompetents at the Ministry for so many years?"

Harry kept an impassive face. "We have the right to enforce this deal," he said.

"Unlikely," Pettigrew cut in. "I have contacts within the Auror Division. You are on unofficial leave, which means you left without warning." He gave a nasty little smile. "I suspect that this is an unofficial offering of truce. How do you plan on upholding it?"

"Leave the details to us," Snape said.

But Harry began to wonder exactly how they were going to uphold the truce. Surely… he bit his tongue. Surely he was a complete idiot for not thinking of it before. What was Snape suggesting? A coup of the Ministry? It wouldn't be particularly hard. Arthur Weasley wasn't much better than Fudge for all that he loved playing with his Muggle toys. But the man was his friend and from what Harry knew of coups, they tended not to be bloodless.

Voldemort gave a delighted-sounding laugh. "Well, well, it seems Mister Potter here also enjoys power. Perhaps you envisage a country ruled by both of us?"

Harry kept his breathing even. "That is all irrelevant right now," he said tightly. "We cannot let this killing continue. Do you enjoy seeing your Death Eaters die? I do not enjoy seeing my compatriots or civilians die in the name of a nebulous _cause_. You say that the Muggles are a threat. What if they find out about us now? We're splintered and if they found out and attacked, we'd be lost."

To his surprise, Snape looked at him with what seemed to be an admiring expression. Even Voldemort's expression seemed thoughtful. Or, Harry thought, as thoughtful as red eyes can be in a person. "You make a good point, Mister Potter. You should have tried for Minister."

Harry gave a tight smile. "And give you a chance to assassinate me? I would rather not."

"And what would be the conditions of the truce," Voldemort asked.

Pettigrew turned in surprise. "You are considering this in earnest?" he asked.

Harry was surprised when Voldemort didn't immediately turn and cast an Unforgivable on the man. Instead, Voldemort simply gave a sharp nod. "It is an idea that has crossed my mind as well."

Snape shifted in what was obvious surprise.

"The conditions," Harry began, "are that all harming of Muggle-borns, Muggles and half-bloods must stop immediately. This includes forcibly Obliviating them. In return, all Muggle families who produce a Magical child will be forced to sign a blood oath to keep it a secret." He had discussed this with Snape last night and both of them had found that it was fair. Blood oaths were serious spells, but so was the possible revealing of the wizarding world. "Muggle-borns and half-bloods will be given the same rights as purebloods in our world. However, in exchange, the introduction of Muggle culture will be halted immediately pending further notice. Any further introduction of Muggle items will be reviewed by the Wizengamot."

He was surprised to see Voldemort nodding. "Fairly reasonable requests."

"My lord," Pettigrew said, obviously distressed. "This will erode our support base."

"It will," Snape said sharply, "unify the wizarding world like it has never been unified before. We will be one. All with magic will be the same. And we will be free of Muggle taint."

Harry was uncomfortable with the last words and shifted slightly on his feet. In fact, there was something uncomfortable about the whole proceedings. He finally decided that it was because he felt as though he was giving up on his morals. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but agree with Snape's views that Muggles were changing the wizarding world. He may not use the word taint, but they were certainly affecting the wizarding world, and not always for the better.

"If agreed," Voldemort said, "how would you plan on announcing it to the wizarding world in general?"

"My lord," Pettigrew interrupted in an insistent voice, "surely they only ask because they know that their support base is being eroded."

"Perhaps," Harry said mildly. "But you would hate to be wrong about that, wouldn't you? Besides, even if you win a long, bloody and drawn-out war, what would be the point of ruling over a decimated population?" He looked over at Voldemort. "There is a re-affirmation vow next week for the Minister. That would be the perfect place to announce a truce. I am supposed to give a speech on the state of the war."

"Your offer of a truce is intriguing," Voldemort finally said after a long silence. His red eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. "For the good of the wizarding world, I accept. On one condition only."

Harry held his breath. "What might that condition be?"

"That all here today sign blood oaths," Voldemort said. "There cannot be a breaking of this truce, don't you agree?"

Harry felt something settle in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't thinking of breaking the truce, but a blood oath? People who broke a blood oath died as the blood boiled in their very veins. He stared up at Snape who nodded. "Agreed," he said, wishing his voice sounded firmer and less scared.

Pettigrew looked aghast, but obviously didn't want to challenge his Lord three times in one meeting.

Harry thought of something. "What about my scar?" he asked.

"Simple," Voldemort told him. "This is a _truce_, Potter. We agree not to attack each other in all ways."

"How would we sign a blood oath with the spell up?" Harry suddenly realised.

Voldemort looked amused and waved his hand suddenly. As Harry watched, dark figures came around the shadowed trees and rocks, into the clearing, all cloaked and masked. He felt a lump in his throat. These were obviously Death Eaters. Snape tensed beside him.

"I do not break my word, Potter," Voldemort said sharply as one of the Death Eaters walked up to him and handed him a piece of paper.

Harry took the piece of paper gingerly and saw that it was a blood oath contract. He skimmed it.

"My Death Eaters drew it up outside the spell once they heard the agreement," Voldemort told him. "I trust it is accurate."

Harry nodded. There was not even a chance of an invisibility spell being cast on a secret clause because blood oaths only affected what the people who signed it could see. It was designed that way because blood oaths were such powerful spells. "It is," he said simply.

Snape withdrew from his robes a small silver-handled knife and a dry quill and Harry stared at him. "You came prepared?"

"I suspected," was Snape's only response.

Harry took the knife and taking a deep breath, cut a small incision into his index finger of his left hand. The cut whitened slightly before welling up with blood. Carefully, he placed the piece of paper on the ground before kneeling down beside it and dipping the quill in his bleeding finger. Using his blood, Harry signed his name.

He then stood up, wiped his finger on his robes and watched as one by one the others did the same. Snape supplied them each with new quills for blood oaths could be tainted by more than one person's blood.

Then finally, he could see the contract lying on the ground, with four signatures, gleaming with blood. "What about them," Harry asked, a thought suddenly occurring to him. He waved an arm to indicate the Death Eaters.

"Are you planning to make the entire Ministry sign?" Voldemort asked. When Harry shook his head, Voldemort continued, "Others may still disagree and we will not be breaking the oath. So long as we take no action to harm the other. Or change the conditions of the truce without consulting the other."

Harry couldn't help but feel that he had made a grievous and utterly stupid error, but at the same time, he realised that the war was finally over.

Later that evening, as both Snape and Harry Apparated back to Snape's small moorland cottage, Harry turned to Snape. "What do you feel?" he asked.

Snape obviously knew what he was talking about for he answered, "Relieved, mostly, but somewhat alarmed still."

"I know what you mean," Harry admitted. "That was almost too easy."

"He can't be planning anything," Snape said, but his voice sounded strange to Harry. "He signed the blood oath."

Harry stared up at the older man, into his eyes and couldn't read them. Snape's eyes were darkened and glittered with some indefinable emotion. Harry felt uncomfortable all of a sudden and realised that they were standing far too close together. But then to move backwards would be to acknowledge discomfort and feel awkward as well. He couldn't help but give a tiny shiver as a tingle ran through him.

"Perhaps you ought to go, Potter," Snape said, breaking the silence.

Harry nodded. "I think I should," he said. And then, impulsively, he stood on his toes and kissed Snape on the cheek. "Thank you," he said sincerely. The kiss, just a peck on the cheek really, gave him a warm feeling in his belly. It felt comfortable to be brushing his lips against the day old stubble on Snape's face.

"You're welcome." When Snape answered his voice was abnormally tight.

After Harry had Apparated away, Snape couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into.


	3. Life II

**Part 3: Life II**

The day of the Minister's re-affirmation vow dawned warm and muggy. Tempers will be flying today, Snape thought as he shaved and dressed. Potter hadn't contacted him since he had left after that ridiculous little kiss. Snape hated himself for turning that kiss over and over in his mind, analysing each possible nuance. And he hated the answer more. It was purely a platonic kiss. Perhaps Potter was beginning to think of him as a friend. Or worse, a parental figure.

Snape wasn't sure he could ever stand to be a parental figure, especially to Potter. For one thing, it was ridiculously irresponsible for a parental figure get a hard-on about the person he was supposed to consider his surrogate son.

The first time Snape had gotten a hard on over Potter had been just after Potter had graduated. The expression of complete freedom and determination on that young face had haunted Snape in his dreams until when he woke up he found himself tumescent. Wanking to Potter's face had been a guilty pleasure, one that had taken him through six years of lonely nights.

Then of all damnable things, Potter had to show up at his door and ask for his help. And what's worse, he had to _kiss_ him _on the cheek_ of all ridiculous places. Snape could think of far better places for Potter to kiss him, but doubtless the younger man would be running for the door if he mentioned any of them.

The only time he ever thought that Potter might feel the same as he did was that moment just before they emerged from the Better Than Life potion. It had been a glimmer in Potter's eyes and he hadn't seen it since.

Snape gave himself a firm mental kick. It was useless to be thinking about that. He needed to get ready for the ceremony. There was bound to be a furore and he didn't trust the Dark Lord's offer of his Death Eaters as 'peacekeepers' in case of a riot. Just the thought of Death Eaters as keepers of any kind of peace brought a wry, cynical smile to Snape's lips. They would be more likely to keep peace with Unforgivables than with normal spells.

Of course, Snape mused, the Dark Mark on his own left arm still burned as black as charcoal. It wasn't any more likely that the general public would take to him being a peacekeeper than they would to any other person with the Dark Mark. The prejudice against him in the wizarding world wasn't overt by any means. Anybody less attuned to the emotions of others would have taken it as respect. Very silent, frightened respect. That was one of the main reasons he rarely bothered to go back into 'normal' wizarding society any more. He hadn't been to Diagon Alley in over two years. Everything was done by owl post. Far easier for everybody concerned. Terrified politeness wasn't so obvious in writing.

Of course, all this could be a bonus. They would actually be likely to listen then.

Still, it was with apprehension shadowing his face, that Snape Apparated to Diagon Alley. As he appeared, he could almost feel the fear coming from the people around him.

Briefly, Snape wondered whether he was just being paranoid. Was it all in his imagination? Perhaps people weren't actually like that. Somehow, he doubted it.

He stepped around several people who were abnormally silent and made for the door. Outside in the sunlight, Snape squinted and found one of the many phone booths that led to the Ministry. He opened the door of the booth, stepped inside and dialled.

When he arrived at the other end, in the Ministry proper, Snape could immediately hear the hustle and bustle. It sounded like a thousand people were chattering away like tiny little birds. As he walked into the Ministry, he could have sworn several people gave him strange glances, but Snape ignored them. He hovered at the edge of the crowd.

Snape jumped as a hand was laid on his elbow. As he turned, he found himself staring into the bright green eyes of Harry Potter.

"Nice to see you made it," Potter said.

Snape couldn't help a ghost of a smile that flickered across his face. "I wouldn't have missed this day. I have the feeling it will go down in the history books."

"Let's just hope that it's as something _good_," Potter said grimly.

Awkwardly, Snape laid a hand on Potter's arm. "You don't have to do this."

Potter's eyes are dark green as he stared up into Snape's own. "I believe you've already told me that once already," he said lightly. "Besides, I do need to do this."

Snape watched as Potter walked off, mingling once more into the crowd and suppressed a shiver that crawled down his spine. There was something about the other man that was so _familiar. _He didn't want to think about why.

As Snape watched the crowd, he could tell most people were slowly making their way into the mahogany-finished conference hall, which was off the main Ministry entranceway. Casting dark glances at the people around him, Snape edged his way in. At the end of the room, he could see a podium, which was obviously the place where Arthur would give his speech Even as he watched, more people came into the room behind him and Snape found himself pushed into the centre of the crowd. He frowned in annoyance.

One of the side doors opened, and Snape saw Arthur Weasley walk out. The man was far better dressed than when he had last seen him. There was an aura of power and authority around him that hadn't been there before. He saw Arthur nod to the men around him – possibly bodyguards? Snape wondered whether they would be a problem.

Arthur stepped up to the podium, took out his wand and tapped his own throat with it. Snape could see his lips forming the word _Sonorous_ even though it was too far for him to hear.

"My fellow witches and wizards, could I have your attention please?"

There was a small upwards surge in the general volume in the room before everybody quietened down. Snape used the moments to slip unobtrusively into the edges of the crowd.

"It's been four years since I've stood here before you, and I'm afraid little has changed. Except maybe my girth," Arthur said, rather jovially.

There was general friendly laughter around the room.

Snape mentally raised an eyebrow but kept an interested expression on his face. It wasn't like the Arthur Weasley he once knew to be so in tune with public perception. Then again, the Arthur he knew was before the man become the head of the Ministry. That position was known to change even the most naive man. Even Fudge had been full of ideals when he had first taken the job.

"But all joking aside, we're still in the middle of a war." Arthur's voice was serious. "This is a time of sacrifice for all of us. We must all be vigilant. We must be alert but not alarmed. It is a dangerous time for us to be living in but also a time of great triumphs. For my second term in office, I pledge that we will emerge out of this time of darkness and into the light."

There was tumultuous applause and Snape resisted the urge to snort. Who wrote the speeches nowadays anyway, he wondered. They were getting worse and worse. Be alert but not alarmed? He shook his head minutely.

"To give all of you an update on the war, I call war hero Harry Potter."

Again, there was thunderous applause. Snape could see Potter walking up to the stage, looking nervous but also with a steely glint in his eyes. Snape was surprised to feel that he was slightly apprehensive himself. Be careful, he thought. You need to get the public on your side first. The public is the most important part. If they're convinced then the battle's half won.

Snape saw Harry take a visible breath before he cast the _Sonorous_ spell on himself and began. "I'm sure all of you have seen the Daily Prophet articles about how the tide of the war is turning in our favour." There was a general murmur of assent in the crowd. He hesitated. "Let me give you a few statistics on the war."

There was a general surprised murmur in the crowd who obviously expected yet another 'we will prevail!' speech. Snape could see Arthur exchange a worried glance with a Guard and he had to stop his lip from curling upwards. Apparently the Ministry didn't trust the Aurors much anymore.

"The war has been going on for nine years," Potter said quietly. All the more effective, Snape thought, because of his low tone. "During that time, we've had more than nine hundred casualties. Out of a population of barely 20, 000 in Britain that is a massive proportion."

The crowd seemed to shift around and Snape could hear somebody muttering, "I didn't think it was _that_ long."

His lips twitched. It was a common phenomenon. When anything dragged on for too long, people had the tendency to think that it had been around forever. It happened in the first war and it would happen in wars in the future. Let's just hope that future wars don't happen for some time, Snape thought.

"We've had a staggering number of attacks on Ministry installations, Hogwarts, as well as private citizens' homes. Oh last count, over the past year alone, more than 600 attempts by Death Eaters to gain access to our resources were recorded. Out of these, few were successful, but those few had devastating consequences." Harry paused slightly.

Snape saw Arthur walk back onto the stage, turning his back to the audience to speak to Harry. He had obviously turned the Sonorous spell off but there was agitation on every line of his body. His shoulders were hunched and tense while his hands made small stiff gesticulations.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Harry spoke softly, but the entire hall could hear. "I'm afraid I'm not finished yet."

Arthur cast a glance around the hall, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he nodded and walked off the stage once more. Snape saw him conversing with one of the Guards who had been on the stage before, both talking in low hushed tones.

Harry barely looked in their direction but simply took hold of the podium again. "During the past year, we also launched over 400 of our own attacks on the Death Eaters. Less than one percent of those attacks yielded positive results and many resulted in collateral damage. For those of you not versed in Auror lingo, collateral damage means that _our_ people died on those failed raids. Over thirty of our people, in fact. I'm sure everybody in the audience knows of at least one of those people personally." He swallowed audibly. "Thirty people. I simply cannot accept this any longer. So I decided to do something about it."

A ripple of surprise spread across the audience. There was a shift in the group nearest to the far wall from Snape and as he narrowed his eyes, he could see somebody raise a hand from the group.

"Yes?" Harry said, obviously seeing the hand too.

The crowd parted slightly around the person and Snape could see the slight figure of a woman standing there, quill poised over paper. Obviously a reporter.

"Padma Patil, here," the woman said crisply. "Mister Potter, what gives you the right to decide for the entire wizarding world what is right and what isn't?"

Snape held his breath for the answer.

Potter looked somewhat surprised to be asked. "Since we seem to be stuck in a never-ending war," he said. "I'm a senior Auror, we have the right to question strategies."

"But not to make them," Patil pointed out. "You implied that you have already done something. What is it?"

Snape could see out of the corner of his eye that Arthur was conversing rapidly with the Guard. Several other Guards were moving to Guard the exits to the room. The public seemed oblivious to this and had their attention fixed on Harry.

"This wasn't a new idea by all means. I had it suggested to me during Hogwarts by a teacher I … respected a lot." He paused. "The idea was that I should go to Voldemort and suggest a truce to him. A truce that would benefit the entire …"

Patil interrupted him, her eyes wide as she was scribbling furiously without looking at the notebook. The crowd had gone deathly silent. "Are you suggesting that we look for a truce with You-Know-Who? A truce with an insane despot?"

Harry's jaw clenched slightly, before he relaxed it. "I'm afraid that you have not much choice in the matter," he said. "The truce has already been signed."

Snape could almost feel the temperature in the room rising. From where he was standing, he saw Arthur's eyes widen as his mouth dropped open slightly. Several of his Guards immediately reached for their wands and now were holding them in front of themselves. The entire audience was awash in whispers as people began to give nervous looks around. Snape saw several people staring pointedly at Harry's left arm which was resting on the podium. Harry's mouth was set in a thin line as he saw all of this.

The only person in the room who looked even remotely excited was Padma Patil. Her eyes were gleaming. The scoop of the century, Snape thought dryly.

"Let me get this straight," Patil's voice rang out loud and clear in the din. "You signed a truce with You-Know-Who."

"Yes," Harry said.

Two of the Guards split up from where they were congregated near Arthur. One of them circled the stage and came up on Harry's left while the other came up from Harry's right.

As Snape watched, they spoke several words to Harry. "I'm afraid I cannot let you arrest me," Harry said calmly and before anybody could see, he had his wand out. "Surely you would rather listen to my reasoning before anybody tries any drastic action?" His voice hardened. "After all, I was able to come to a truce with the man who _murdered _my parents.

Patil, who seemed to have taken the job of spokesperson for the audience, raised her hand again. When Harry glanced her way, she said, "And what exactly are the terms of this truce."

Harry gave a few more looks at the two Guards still hovering near him before answering. "The terms are that are that all harming of Muggle-borns, Muggles and half-bloods will immediately halt. In return, I agreed that all Muggle families who produce a Magical child will be forced to sign a blood oath to keep it a secret. Muggle-borns and half-bloods will be given the same rights as purebloods in our world. However, in exchange, the introduction of Muggle culture will be halted immediately pending further notice by the Wizengamot."

Snape could see several members of the audience near him giving each other surprised glances. "That sounds perfectly reasonable," one old man muttered to his wife.

"You lead us to believe that You-Know-Who agreed to this?" Patil said, sounding disbelieving, raising her black eyebrows.

"He isn't as insane as some would have you believe," Harry said quietly.

The old man near Snape said in an audible whisper, "Brainwashing, I've seen it all before. As if You-Know-Who could be sane after his sojourn in the land of the dead."

Sanity isn't that easy to rid yourself of, Snape thought.

"And before any of you begin to think that I've taken leave of my senses or that I've turned to the Dark Side," Harry continued, "I'll have you remember that my mother was Muggle-born. As for my sanity or lack of brainwashing, I'm afraid I cannot convince you except with the peace that will follow from this truce."

"And what about the rights of the Muggles and Muggle-borns in the wizarding world," a clear, cold voice inquired.

Snape could immediately recognise the voice. After all, she was one of the few students at Hogwarts ever to get the top number of NEWTs. Hermione Granger. He remembered hearing a few years ago that there had been a falling out between the Trio. He wasn't entirely sure of the reason but he suspected that there were hurt feelings abound when one of the missions Harry was assigned to as an Auror failed to save Granger's parents.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said in an equally icy tone,"the rights of the aforementioned are provided for in the truce."

"Not adequately enough," she replied. "Blood oaths? A halt of _progress?_"

"I'm afraid some may have a different idea of progress to you," Harry told her. "During my years as an Auror, I have heard people refer to the introduction of Muggle items into our world as 'contamination'. And that is one of the kindest descriptions of it."

"Is that what you think of it, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice barely audible.

"Perhaps we ought to discuss this afterwards," he said. A small twisted smile appeared on his face. "If I am not arrested for high treason for ensuring the peace of our world."

Snape strained his ears and could hear the same old man saying, "If you ask me, young Potter did the right thing. This war's been going on too long." That was a good sign, Snape thought. He just hoped the rest of the crowd felt the same way.

Obviously Arthur didn't. His eyes were flashing as he walked up the steps to the stage, past his Guards and towards Harry. "You will be fortunate if you do not receive a life sentence in Azkaban for this," he told Harry, loud enough for the crowd to hear.

There was a loud murmur from the crowd.

Somebody called out, "Even if this peace lasts?" and there was sounds of agreement from everywhere.

"And how likely is that?" Arthur said loudly. "This is You-Know-Who we're talking about."

"How do you know it won't work?" Harry pointed out. "Has this ever been tried before? There is no precedent in wizarding history. Besides it is readily apparent that the current policies aren't effective at all."

"They just need time," Arthur snapped.

"My policy doesn't need time," Harry spoke back, equally angrily. "We will stop the killing once and for all. How long do you think before the Muggles decide to take advantage of us in our vulnerable situation?"

There was definitely a shifting in the crowd now. Muggles were a sore topic with all wizards, Snape thought. History was just far too soaked with the blood of wizards taken at the hands of Muggles for the topic to be taken calmly.

"They wouldn't do that," Arthur said, but he sounded rather feeble.

"Have you even bothered to look at Muggle politics recently or have you simply been fiddling with those gadgets of yours," Harry spat. "The British PM knows about us. I have no doubts that his parliament knows too. When will it be before they see that we're too fractured to work properly and we become annexed into their culture? If that happens, do you really think the Muggles have become more tolerant in their view on witches and wizards during the past two hundred years?" His green eyes were dark and flashing.

Snape silently applauded him and then wondered why he was putting such support behind somebody who wasn't long past boyhood. There was a niggling feeling of discomfort in his stomach.

"They are more tolerant," Arthur retorted. "I'm not completely ignorant of Muggles, despite what you may think, Harry. They have recently given voting powers to non-whites."

"Well it depends on what you define as recent," Harry said. "And it is not exactly in the Muggles favour that they have been so prejudiced in the past." He tilted his head and stared at Arthur.

Snape was faintly amused by all of this, but he sensed that the rest of the crowd was getting restless with the goings-on. There seemed to be several different conversations going on in different parts of the crowd.

"Well are you going to arrest me?" Harry asked mildly. "For 'high treason' or whatever you called it before?" His hand was still on his wand.

Arthur paused, re-considering. He glanced around the hall, obviously trying to gauge public opinion. "I don't believe arrest is necessary," he said finally, motioning for his Guards to stand back. "However, you are confined to your house until further notice. All visitors must report to the Ministry first."

Potter stared at Arthur. "If you feel you must."

Snape smirked. He didn't think that would hold Potter for very long.

Harry was somewhat amused at the statement released by the Ministry a day after his shock public announcement.

_The Ministry Declares a Temporary Ceasefire against Death Eaters_

It was so obviously in response to his speech that even the most avowed Ministry supporter would be able to tell. Harry hoped so anyway.

He was rather disappointed at Hermione's outburst during his speech. He had somewhat hoped that his old friend would support him in this, even though they were no longer close anymore. He thought that the policies he and Snape had come up with were perfectly fair, but obviously Hermione didn't think so.

They had fallen apart over something that Harry knew he had no control over. It wasn't his fault that his Auror team had arrived two minutes late. It wasn't his fault that the Death Eaters had escaped. It wasn't his fault that her parents were dead, but Hermione blamed him anyway. And Ron had sided with his wife on the issue.

With a sigh, Harry made himself a cup of tea and nursed it in his hands. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon and he was feeling terribly alone. Although he could easily have broken the wards placed around his house by the Ministry, he decided not to. From the Daily Prophet it seemed that Voldemort was upholding his end of the bargain. For that Harry was glad because it meant that he was right. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to implement the policies agreed upon. Perhaps the Ministry would begin to talk to Voldemort, to come up with mutually satisfactory (or as he thought wryly, mutually unsatisfactory) policies.

Suddenly, Harry jumped as he heard a knock on his front door. He stood up, still holding his cup of tea and walked to the door. Opening it, he saw Hermione standing there.

"Hello," he said, awkwardly.

Hermione held out her wand and touched it to the warding system. It immediately shimmered into being visible for a second before disappearing. When she stepped in the front door, it shimmered back behind her.

"I see you've been to the Ministry," Harry said, unable to keep some of the bitterness out of his voice.

"How else would I get past the wards?" she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I suppose you want to see me about the truce I signed," Harry said, after a rather uneasy silence. He motioned for her to enter the actual hallway, then closing door behind her, he walked towards the kitchen. In the kitchen, Harry put his tea cup on the bench and pulled up a chair. Hermione did the same.

"You signed a blood oath, didn't you?" she said abruptly.

He was surprised. "Yes," he admitted.

"That's stupid," she snapped.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to stop the flow of nasty words that were going through his mind. "You decided to come here to tell me that I am stupid," he finally said. "Why, Hermione? Why after so long?" He let out a long breath. "Why do you still blame me?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't blame you."

He stared at her. "But…" he began.

Hermione lifted a hand. "Let me finish. I don't blame you intellectually, but I can't help but blame you in my heart. You need to let me get over this."

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, "it's been two years."

"I need time," she said tightly. "Besides, you seem perfectly capable of doing without my friendship. You even managed to work out a truce with the thing which killed my parents."

"Perhaps you've forgotten," he said, "but Voldemort also killed my parents."

"Yet, that didn't stop you from working out a truce with him," she pointed out.

"It's for the good of the wizarding world," he said uncomfortably, taking a sip of his tea. The truce made perfect sense inside his mind. It was just rather difficult to explain to other people.

"Explain to me why it is good for our world that we make Muggles swear a blood oath, an oath they don't even understand?" she asked.

"We can explain it to them," Harry told her. "Besides, it's for the good of our world. Don't the Muggles also work on that concept? Each country works for the good of that country only. Other countries are allies, on speaking terms or not on speaking terms depending on the benefit for the country concerned."

"I'm not saying that Muggles are inherently better than wizards. There are many problems in the Muggle world that need fixing."

"But…" Harry said. "I sense a 'but' in there."

"But the Muggle parents of wizarding children aren't going to hurt the wizarding world?" she snapped.

"No?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "What about Voldemort's Muggle father. If he never left his mother then it's quite possible this war wouldn't exist."

She stared at him and drummed her finger on the bench. "You can't blame the entire war on his father. That's ridiculous! He bears most of the responsibility. 99 of it, I'd say."

"True," he said, "but, nevertheless his father bears some. There are some… intolerant people in the Muggle world. This will ensure that they a) do not tell anybody about the wizarding world and b) care for the witch or wizard. If they break any of these or are unable to comply, then the child will be given to wizarding foster parents."

Her face suddenly softened. "Harry, this isn't about you and the Dursleys, is it?"

Harry felt an irrational surge of anger through him. It wasn't personal. Far from it! He was doing this for the good of the entire wizarding world. If it was personal, he would still be trying to kill Voldemort. "No," he said shortly.

"I hope it isn't," she said quietly. "Have you thought about how it would work?"

He found himself shaking his head. "I thought truce first, details later. At least now nobody is being killed."

"But everybody is on tenterhooks. Nobody knows what is going to happen."

"But nobody is being killed," Harry repeated. "It will be worked out, I'm sure of it."

"I hope you're right," Hermione said. "I really do."

Harry couldn't help silently hoping that he was right as well.


	4. Life III

**Part 4: Life III**

A year was a very long time, Snape thought to himself as he let himself into his small moorland cottage. Only a year ago the wizarding world was at war. He ignored the small niggling thought that told him that they still were. Only a year ago the Ministry was the same way as it had always been. Only a year ago he had been completely and utterly alone.

Snape had a vague uncomfortable feeling that things weren't as perfect as he thought. Or as perfect as he wanted them to be.

As he walked into the kitchen, Snape felt two arms encircle his waist and a kiss pressed on his neck. "Insatiable brat," he muttered. He had no idea how this whole… relationship had happened but obviously it had and he was going to take full advantage of it.

There was warm laughter. "You know you love it, Severus," Harry said.

Snape shrugged as he always did whenever Harry said anything like that. Expressing emotions verbally was never something he was particularly good at. "Let go," he said, as he walked over to the cupboard.

Harry let go, walked around Snape and looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. "Bad day?"

"I'd say," Snape replied.

Harry leaned forward and pressed a soft, comforting kiss on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll make it all better," he said with a grin.

Snape rolled his eyes. His lover could be quite trite at times, and he wouldn't admit it, but he did find it adorable. At times, anyway. Now wasn't really one of those times. His day at the Ministry had been rather trying. He was glad that he didn't have to go often. Most of his work could be done from home.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"The Programs aren't exactly going to plan," Snape said, as he took out his kettle – one of the few Muggle foibles allowed in the wizarding world nowadays. Freshly brewed tea – not speed-heated – was a luxury. "There have been problems."

Harry frowned. "Problems were anticipated, though," he pointed out.

"Some of the participants in the Program aren't as willing as we hoped they'd be." Snape stared at the chrome kettle as it slowly whirred to life.

"Convince them, Severus," Harry said, as he laid a hand on Snape's arm. "I'm sure you can."

Suddenly, Snape's throat felt tight and he swallowed rather loudly. "I'll try," he said.

Harry lifted his hand and used it to turn Snape's face towards his own. "I have faith in you, Severus."

_I have faith in you, Severus._ Snape knew he had heard those words before. Different context, different situation but they still haunted him.

"But don't think about it now," Harry continued, as he took a step closer to Snape so that the older man could feel the heat coming from his body. Involuntarily Snape shivered. Harry's eyes were dark green. "In fact, don't think at all."

The buttons on his robes were always in the way, Snape decided as he watched Harry's fingers fumble – endearingly – on the tiny buttons. But then again, he suspected that Harry liked them that way. As Harry got down to the last button, Snape could feel himself hardening in anticipation. There was something beautiful in watching somebody else undress him slowly, with gentle fingers.

As Snape moved to drop the robes on the floor, Harry looked up. "Don't," he said, in a rough voice. His fingers moved to the elastic of Snape's boxers.

Snape's breath caught in his throat as a warm tongue slid along the line of his boxers, over the line of hair tracing its way from his navel. His hands came up to thread in Harry's hair. "Playing, Harry?"

Harry looked up, with a smirk on his face. "You like this, Severus, you know you do."

Slowly, teasingly, Harry edged Snape's boxers off, over his burgeoning erection, until they dropped onto the ground. Then he knelt down, on the kitchen floor. Snape couldn't help a small gasp escaping him as Harry licked. "Tease," he managed to get out.

Harry laughed. "You love it when I do this."

Snape did. He admitted that much to himself at least. He loved watching Harry's head moving rhythmically as his lover knelt before him. He loved coming for Harry, the look on Harry's face as he watched Snape lose control (not completely, but almost).

Harry opened his mouth and Snape just saw a glimpse of that tongue before he felt a warmness envelop him.

The sounds. Oh god, the sounds. Snape almost laughed at what the people at the Ministry would think if they knew what they were doing here and now. The soft moans escaping from his throat. The unbearably _needy_ sounds. The look of Harry's pink lips enclosed around him. His black hair, messy.

Snape felt his hands clenching in Harry's hair, knuckles white, as Harry scraped his teeth, just slightly, very slightly, against the sensitive underside. His breath was raspy and uneven as he thrust, thrust, _thrust _into that wonderful mouth until he felt himself teetering on the brink and coming with a small moan.

He slipped from those pink lips, limp and watched Harry give him a smile with his slightly swollen mouth.

Everything is perfect, Snape decided as he pulled his lover up and gave him a thorough kiss, tasting himself on those lips.

Peter knew that everybody underestimated him and he was glad for it. It meant that he made a perfect spymaster for the new Ministry. That and his natural aptitude for hiding and concealing things. There were some issues at the beginning to be smoothed out, but Peter found that sometimes pretending that some people didn't exist worked well for everybody.

It was in his capacity as spymaster that he was currently questioning the suspected traitor. He ran his silver hand across her hair and was gratified to see her shiver.

"You lead us to believe that you didn't pass information to the Muggles during your frequent … dalliances in Muggle London."

The woman spat blood out of her mouth and onto the stone floor. "Are you delusional?" she finally managed to get out. "I was visiting friends."

Peter smiled at her, seeing the fear shining clear in her eyes. "Surely such a smart witch as you would know of Muggle Law 13. Perhaps you would like to tell me what it says," he said with a sneer.

"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you," she said, eyes narrowing.

"I'm sure I do," he said. "_Crucio_!"

Her body arched in the chair where she was shackled to. Peter was pleased to see the sparkles of electricity in her hair. The material of the chair was a new invention and was conducive to Dark Magic. Very effective for questioning, he thought.

When he thought she had enough, he lifted his wand and she sank down into the chair with a gasp. A line of blood trickled out of her mouth and he could seen the veins in her eyes.

"T-tell me," he repeated again, nicely this time, "what is Muggle Law 13?"

"N-n-no w-w-witch or w-wizard," she managed to get out through the blood pooling in her mouth, "m-may speak to an M-Muggle without e-express Ministry p-per-permission."

Peter was amused that a side effect of the questioning was stuttering. Let her see how it's like, he thought with no small amount of vindication. "Correct," he said, smiling brightly at her. "Now what were you doing? Speaking to Muggles, of course! Surely you know that is punishable under the Muggle Laws."

"P-punishment, not torture," she said.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the woman, much like he had felt so many years ago when she was still a child. She was obviously very strong. All the more fun to break though. "Is there a difference?" he said mildly.

Harry was gratified to see the looks of respect as he walked through the Ministry. Getting to his office door, he opened it and saw that there was already somebody inside. A glamour really does a lot for somebody, he thought with faint amusement as he looked at the other person. He heard the door click shut behind him.

"Tom," he said. "What are you doing here?" He saw the scowl on the other man's face and smirked slightly. "You surely don't expect _me_ to call you 'my lord' do you?"

Tom Riddle shrugged. "No," he admitted. "I hear they've begun calling you lord nowadays."

"Only some," Harry said. "I don't encourage it."

Tom's eyes gleamed. "But you don't discourage it either."

Harry shrugged. "I can't stop people saying things." A part of his mind disagreed loudly but he quashed that part. "What are you doing here anyway?" He was faintly annoyed to find his co-leader here. It was part of the agreement less than ten months ago, where the wizarding world was fumbling for direction under the control of Arthur Weasley, that although the new Ministry would be run by both Harry and Tom jointly, the public face of the affairs would be Harry's domain. Of course, Harry reflected, the reasons behind that had disappeared once several researchers had discovered a way to keep a glamour running all the time without draining a wizard's powers.

"I thought we should discuss policy," Tom said smoothly, his long thin fingers tapping a beat on Harry's table.

Harry sat down, a little annoyed at the position of authority Tom had as he was sitting in Harry's own chair. "And what would you like to discuss?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Surely you are not that disconnected from the world in that little cottage of Severus's." A small smirk played around his mouth. "Surely you have heard of our newest traitor?"

"I have," Harry said shortly, nodding curtly. He didn't particularly like the insinuation in Tom's voice regarding him and Snape. So what if he spent much of his time in the Scottish moorland? There was something comforting about staying in the cottage with only his lover for company. It wasn't as though he didn't have his own informants. Peter wasn't the only spymaster in wizarding Britain.

"What do you think we should do with her?"

A small frown furrowed Harry's forehead. "Surely that is a job for our spymaster," he pointed out.

"We wouldn't want Peter to make any _mistakes_," Tom said. "Since she was your… friend. After all, it wouldn't do for my spymaster to be killed for insubordination."

"I thought it was _our_ spymaster."

"What's mine is yours. What's yours is mine," Tom said softly and Harry felt a shiver of cold running down his spine.

Hermione, he thought with a mental shake of his head, why must you be so difficult? She had never accepted the peace created by him and Tom. She insisted that it was fragile, like walking on eggshells. _The entire wizarding world is walking on eggshells, _she had told him. _They're going to crack sometime and we're going to fall._

Ridiculous, of course.

Everybody said that the past ten months had been the best in years. Everything was looking brighter. There was peace. Prosperity lingered on the horizon. Mothers let their children play in Diagon Alley without fearing curses from the darkness. The number of deaths had dropped dramatically.

Hermione's words were simply ridiculous. And now she was a suspected traitor under the care of Peter. Harry had never cared to inquire into Peter's methods. He rather thought he didn't want to know. All he knew was that nobody ever got let out of his custody. Once a suspected traitor, a person simply disappeared.

"I feel sorry for her," Harry said thoughtfully. "But perhaps this was for the best. She didn't like the peace and prosperity we created. She wouldn't have survived in our world."

Tom's eyes gleamed. "So I shall tell Peter…"

"Tell him that he may do as he will," Harry interrupted.

"Excellent."

"How many," Snape asked one day as Harry came back to the cottage.

Harry blinked his green eyes over-bright. "You'll have to ask Peter," he said quietly. "He's in charge of these matters."

Snape didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think of the dissidents being killed. He didn't want to think of the price of peace. And he especially didn't want to see the expression in Harry's eyes sometimes.

He wondered whether this was what he had always feared would happen. And then he wondered whether their world would have been better off any other way. At least now, he thought, there's peace and prosperity.

Peace and prosperity.

"I love you, Harry," he said suddenly.

Harry turned surprised eyes towards him. "That's the first time you've said it."

"I love you, Harry," Snape repeated and hoped that his lover understand what he was trying to say. _Don't lose yourself. Don't destroy what we've worked so hard to make. Don't, don't, oh don't listen to Tom._ "Be careful."

"I love you too," Harry murmured and buried his face in Snape's robes. "And I'm always careful."

Peace, Snape thought.

There was always a price to pay for it.

He hoped this price wouldn't be too high.


End file.
